by Penny Jordan
‘No, Claire,’ he said in a softer tone. ‘I told you that from now on, financially, Lucy would be my responsibility, and I meant it. That’s part of my contribution to our marriage; please don’t deprive me of making it. I don’t want to feel beholden to you any more than you do to me, you know. We’re partners in this—equal partners.’
She knew that he was right.
He released her arm and she shivered suddenly, missing the protection of his tall body as he moved away from her, and a cold wind bit through her thin jacket.
‘Come on, let’s get inside; it’s cold out here. Come on, you two,’ he called to the girls. ‘You can admire your new friends later.’
It was an odd sensation to have someone concerned for her comfort after being independent and alone for so long, even if he was only being courteous.
Inside, the hotel retained much of its countryhouse flavour. A smiling receptionist handed Jay a key, and called for a porter to show them the way to their suite. She was a pretty girl with blonde hair and nice teeth, and the way she smiled at Jay reminded Claire of just how sexually attractive he was. That knowledge seemed to heighten her own sense of inadequacy reminding her sharply of all that she wasn’t and never could be.
But it was because of the things that she was that Jay was marrying her, she reminded herself firmly, and not the things she was not.
Their suite was magnificent: a sitting-room and three bedrooms, each with its own private bathroom, coordinated throughout in toning shades of French blue and terracotta. Here were several ideas she could copy for their own guest suites, and for the house itself, Claire reflected, making a closer examination of some decorative faux marbling on the door frames.
‘What do you think of it?’ Jay asked her, strolling over to join her as she studied the attractive décor of the sitting-room.
‘It’s lovely!’
‘Yes. It certainly should be; they’ve spent a fortune on renovating the place.’ He moved past her to look more closely at the delicate plasterwork on one of the walls, and instantly Claire realised.
‘It’s yours, isn’t it? The plasterwork …’
He was grinning hugely, looking almost carefree.
‘Yes, and the columns that have been marbled. I like the way they’ve done this, don’t you?’ he asked her, indicating a panel on the wall where the decorative plasterwork inside it had been delicately tinged in a soft terracotta fading to palest peach. ‘I wonder how they do it.’
‘By putting on the colour and then wiping it off.’ Claire told him promptly. ‘That way, only the most raised parts of the design get the paint.’
She saw his eyebrows lift and explained. ‘It’s something I’m very interested in, and last winter I got several books from the library on the subject. We could try something similar in the drawing-room, if you like, it’s certainly large enough to take it.’
‘Mummy, which bedroom is going to be ours?’
Lucy’s impatient question distracted them both, and Claire suggested to her daughter that she and Heather should share the room with the two single beds in it.
While she was talking to them, the porter came up with their luggage. Jay tipped him and then glanced at his watch.
‘It’s gone twelve o’clock. How about an early lunch and then shopping this afternoon?’ To Claire he added, ‘We won’t have time now, but later I’ll show you the sports centre they have here. It’s very luxurious, and we supplied the plaster columns that surround the swimming pool. We were called in after they had a bad fire eighteen months ago, and we had to replace and match a lot of the original plasterwork. This hotel is part of a small but very prestigious group which specialises in these country-house settings. We’re in the process of negotiating a contract with them for work in other hotels owned by the group.’
He broke off suddenly and frowned, his voice brusque. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear all about that. It’s boring …’
‘It isn’t boring at all,’ Claire contradicted him quickly. ‘I think it’s fascinating.’
Jay gave her an odd look, and for the first time she saw in him Heather’s vulnerability. She reached out to touch his arm in the same comforting way she would have done one of the girls, and as she touched him, he stopped dead and stared down at her. Immediately Claire withdrew from him, her face scarlet.
‘I’m sorry, I …’
‘Don’t be. There’s no need.’
The way he was looking at her made her feel quite odd, breathless and slightly light-headed, and then the lift arrived and he looked away, and everything returned to normal.
They lunched in what had once been the Victorian conservatory, now beautifully restored and replanted.
The menu, although not vegetarian, featured recipes chosen with healthy eating in mind. Claire and Jay both chose a vegetable mosaic in broccoli mousse to start with, while the two girls opted for a fresh fruit platter.
‘What would you like for your main course?’ Jay asked her.
‘I think I’ll have the chicken in cheese sauce with vegetables, and the same for the girls.’
‘Mmm. I’m going to have the poached fillet of steak.’
The food, when it came, was deliciously light, leaving Claire feeling virtuous enough to opt for crème caramel for her sweet.
Jay had ordered wine with their meal, and over coffee Claire found herself slowly relaxing as the alcohol spread through her body.
‘It’s just gone two now,’ said Jay, glancing at his watch. ‘It will take us about twenty minutes to get into Bath, so—if you’re ready?’
At half past two exactly, he was skilfully parking the car in the centre of Bath.
It was only a short walk from where they had parked to the main shopping area, but Jay directed them instead to what Claire soon realised was a far more exclusive area.
‘I’m told by my secretary that we’re far more likely to find what we want here,’ was the only explanation he gave Claire, as he shepherded them all into one of the exclusive boutiques.
The woman who came forward to serve them was wearing the most elegant casual clothes Claire had ever seen, and her heart sank. It would cost a small fortune to buy anything here. Jay probably didn’t realise. But Jay was already explaining to her that she, Claire, needed a complete winter wardrobe, including evening wear.
‘There’s a couple of toy shops further along here,’ he added to Claire. ‘I’ll take the girls there and they can start thinking about what they’d like Father Christmas to bring them. We’ll come back in, say, an hour.’
Whereas when he had calmly announced what he thought she needed to buy she had felt almost resentful, now, conversely, she felt as though he were deserting her, and wanted to beg him to stay, but he and the girls were gone before she could raise any protest.
‘What a sensible man your husband is,’ remarked the saleswoman when they had gone. ‘Choosing clothes is difficult enough, isn’t it, without the added distraction of an impatient family?’
‘He isn’t my husband,’ Claire said weakly. ‘At least, not yet. We’re getting married tomorrow.’
Now what on earth had made her say that? The woman’s semi-formal manner relaxed immediately.
‘Oh, how exciting! Have you already chosen something to wear? Of course, I suppose you must …’
When Claire shook her head, she positively beamed.
‘Well, you couldn’t have chosen a better time to look, because we’ve just taken delivery of our winter stock. Let’s get the basics out of the way first, shall we, and then we can concentrate on the “fancies”. What does your own taste run to? Any particular make?’
Claire shook her head, unable to tell her that it was so long since she had bought herself anything that hadn’t come from a chain store that she had no idea what to ask for.
‘I like the outfit you’re wearing,’ she managed at last. ‘But I’m afraid …’
‘This is an Escada, and they do a lovely range. It’s one of my favourites. I’
ll take you into our separates section and you can have a look. I’d say you were only a size 10, if that, so you won’t be hard to fit.’
Half an hour later, Claire had chosen a slim-fitting grey skirt with a beautifully detailed silk satin blouse in cream, with padded shoulders that gave her a silhouette that she privately thought was almost film-star-ish. To go with it, the saleswoman suggested a sweater with a bird motif on it, in toning greys and creams, with a touch of blue to go with the very ‘county’ tweed jacket in the same range of colours.
Clare loved them all.
‘It really is a “go anywhere” outfit,’ the saleswoman told her, and Claire knew that she was right.
Having settled on them, the woman produced half a dozen day dresses in a variety of styles and colours, and Claire allowed herself to be persuaded into one in bright red, with a diamanté-speckled bow at the throat and rows of demure pintucking down to a dropped waist and slightly flared skirt. It would be a lovely Christmas day dress, and luckily it was the kind of red that she could wear. As this, too, was added to the growing pile, she tried to stifle her growing feeling of guilt. Surely Jay had never meant her to spend so much money, but it seemed that he had, because now the saleswoman was directing her towards the evening clothes section of the shop, which stretched a long way back from its small shop window.
‘I think this would suit you,’ she told Claire, producing a pretty blue knitted dress with a design on it in sequins and bugle beads. ‘This Frank Usher is dressier—great for parties, and then we’ve a range of cocktail suits.’
In the end Claire found she had added three more outfits to the growing pile.
‘Now, all that’s left is your wedding outfit. Had you anything in mind?’
When Claire shook her head, she smiled. ‘Well, I have! I’ll show it to you.’
She came back with an outfit which she showed to Claire. It was pure silk, with a pleated skirt and a blouson top, and a ribbed waistline and cuffs. On the white background was printed a design in soft blue and terracotta, and Claire fell instantly in love with it.
‘Try it on,’ the woman urged. ‘It really is lovely.’
It was. The pleated skirt swayed and clung with every step; the buttons up one side finished mid-thigh so that every movement gave an enticing glimpse of leg. The knitted cuff on the waistband of the top ensured that it fitted snugly, and bloused properly, and Claire knew that if she searched for a month she could never find anything as attractive. But the price …
She was just about to refuse it when Jay and the girls walked in. She saw Jay in the mirror and noticed the way he came to an abrupt halt and just stared at her.
His stillness worried her, and she turned quickly to the saleswoman. ‘It’s lovely, but I’m afraid it’s too expensive. I …’
‘No. She’s having it,’ contradicted Jay flatly. ‘I don’t care how expensive it is,’ he told Claire when she started to object. ‘You’re having it.’
‘You looked very pretty in it, Mummy,’ Lucy informed her when she re-emerged from the changing room. ‘Didn’t she, Heather?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’ve been in a toy shop, Mummy, and they had a doll’s house, and teddies … and everything …’
‘I seem to have spent an awful lot of money, Jay!’ confessed Claire.
‘I should hope so. That’s why I brought you here. Dressing well will be part of your new role, Claire. If I couldn’t afford it, you wouldn’t be here. You’ll need to get shoes, now, won’t you and …’
‘If I might recommend somewhere,’ the saleswoman suggested, overhearing. ‘There’s a very good shop not very far away, and for good underwear, if I could suggest “Understudy”—it’s only four doors away. They specialise in couture underwear.’
Claire could feel the heat crawling up under her skin. It was ridiculous to feel so embarrassed, but she did.
‘Right, them,’ said Jay when everything had been packed and the bill paid. ‘First underwear and then shoes.’
‘Jay, you’ve spent so much already; I don’t need …’
‘What is it? Are you frightened that I might demand some sort of payment?’
She felt the blood leave her skin as Jay muttered the angry words in her ear.
‘No … no, of course not. It’s just …’
‘Look, I’ve already tried to explain to you once, Claire: once you’re my wife, you’ll be expected to look the part. Susie always wore designer fashion; she …’
‘I’m not Susie!’
Claire wasn’t sure which of them was most surprised by her vehemence. Jay’s mouth compressed slightly, his eyes flinty.
‘No,’ he agreed in a hard voice. ‘You’re not. And I wasn’t making comparisons, if that’s what you thought.’
Her small spurt of temper died as quickly as it had been born and Claire shook her head tiredly. ‘No, I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel so … overwhelmed …’
Try and think of it as buying a uniform for a new job,’ he told her wryly. ‘That might help.’ They were outside the underwear shop already, and he pulled out his wallet and gave her a sum of money that made her eyes widen in shock.
‘I think I can manage to keep the kids occupied for another half an hour. That should be long enough, shouldn’t it?’
It was and when she re-emerged with several parcels, Claire marvelled at how quickly she had disposed of such a large sum of money.
‘Shoes, and then somewhere to have a cup of tea before we start on the girls’ things,’ Jay pronounced as he took the packages from her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to look,’ he added drily, correctly interpreting her anxious look. It made her feel gauche and silly.
No doubt Susie had enjoyed not just buying but wearing wisps of lingerie for him. But their marriage wasn’t going to be like that, she reminded herself, forcing down the panic that built up inside her every time she compared herself to his ex-wife. There was no need for her to worry. He didn’t want another Susie … that was why he was marrying her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WAKE UP, MUMMY; it’s time for breakfast.’
Claire opened protesting eyes and saw Lucy and Heather, both still in their dressing gowns, perched on her bed.
‘Jay said we weren’t to put on our new dresses until after breakfast.’
Wise Jay, Claire thought, struggling to sit up. Those delightful grey velvet dresses with their white collars and maroon velvet bows would not be enhanced by the addition of breakfast cereal. They had been shockingly expensive, but Jay had insisted on buying them, ‘to wear for the wedding,’ and then there had been those irresistible tartan dresses with white collars and matching bows that she hadn’t been able to resist for Christmas Day; a red one for Heather with her dark colouring and a green one for Lucy who had inherited her chestnut hair.
‘The man brought breakfast on a special table,’ Lucy chattered on.
‘But Daddy said we had to come and ask if you wanted a cup of tea,’ added Heather.
‘Ah, so you are awake!’
Jay stood in the doorway. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and a towelling robe—perfectly respectable articles of clothing, but nevertheless Claire felt her stomach clench and contract in response to the sight of him. He must have had a shower, because his hair was still damp.
‘I believe it’s tradition for the bride to have her breakfast in bed on her wedding day.’
‘Not this bride,’ Claire assured him firmly. ‘I’m getting up. Come on, you two,’ she told the girls, ‘off the bed.’ Her dressing gown lay just out of reach on a chair, and although her cotton nightshirt was perfectly respectable, she felt reluctant to get out of bed in front of Jay.
She was almost frozen with horror when he casually walked over to the chair and picked up her faded dressing-gown, holding it out to her.
As clearly as though she had spoken her anguish out loud, he came over to the bed, and said in a low voice so that the girls couldn’t overhear,
‘I’m not going
to touch you, but there are going to be times when we’re going to have to act the part of an apparently normally married couple. Children are very quick, and we don’t want either of them worrying that something isn’t right about our marriage. They’ll accept the fact that we have separate rooms much more easily if they can see that we’re on reasonably intimate terms. And the time to start establishing that is now, unless you want to be the object of village speculation and gossip.’
Claire knew that he was right. Even so, she wished he would move away from the bed, and more than that she wished that he would put down her robe and go away, but he wasn’t going to. So she had to push back the covers and swing unsteady legs to the carpeted floor, trying to appear as casually relaxed as Jay was himself as he handed her her robe. As she turned to take it from him, his fingers rested on her arm, his mouth brushing a light kiss against her forehead. She could smell the clean mint freshness of his breath, and the soapiness of his body.
The reality of him was so different from her deeply suppressed memories of her attacker that it held her tense with surprise.
She heard him say her name, but wasn’t aware of the harsh undertone to his voice until his grip on her arms tightened and she focused on him.
His eyes were brilliant with an anger that made her recoil sharply. ‘No … Claire …’ His grip prevented her from breaking free. ‘I’m sorry. The look on your face brought home to me what could have happened to Heather. I think it takes being a father to bring home to a man how vulnerable and unprotected women are. I think if any man hurt either Heather or Lucy I would tear him apart with my bare hands. I wish I could turn time back for you and wipe out what happened, but I can’t …’
‘No. And at least I have Lucy,’ Claire said unsteadily.
The emotion in his eyes and voice had been so unexpected. His fingers still dug into her arm and she covered them gently.
‘I’m sorry, did I hurt you? I …’ He sounded almost dazed.
‘It doesn’t matter.’